Last night I dreamt that I had popped out to buy some bananas from a kiosk near Angel station in Islington, home of the fabled and feared Metropolitan Liberal Elite.
The kiosk, it seemed in my dream, was owned by Jamie Oliver, and manned that morning by the Labour party's new strategy supremo Seumas Milne.
Milne: 'ave a banana
As I handed Mr Milne my selection of bananas to weigh, he pointed out to me that they had been grown on a collectivised farm in Ecuador. "Isn't that wonderful?" he said.
"Hmm, yes," I grimaced. "It wouldn't happen here though."
"Why not?" asked Milne, perplexed at my unease.
"Well...just...not here," I repeated, gesturing in the direction of the Ottolenghi cafe on Upper Street.
Seumas looked irritated with me.
I paid for my bananas and bid him good day.
*Note: Little Atoms is very aware that Islington is a far more complicated place than suggested by this account of a dream or anything in conservative newspaper
